Bodhichitta
It kills me to see you so heart-less
Here, take mine; to me, it is useless
... Perfectly scienced, just for you
We watched as yours grew wings and flew
Due south, but can't escape the winter
We tried to mend the crimson splinters
But no amount of love or glue
Will fix the mess inside of you
So once again I'll take your pain
A wasted wish for things to change
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